Seven

As people were milling about, discussing what had happened, Matthew approached Jesus, evidently, I suspected, to find out if his sins were forgiven, and whether he would have to make restitution. But they were talking in a very low voice, and it was mere speculation to say about what. One statement only came out of it, when Jesus laughed and said, loud enough for us to hear, "Your problem, Matthew, is not that you do not believe, but that you do not believe that you believe," and then lapsed into the undertone again, as Matthew struggled to understand him. They gradually walked off, still talking, not noticed by anyone except John, Thomas and--of course--Ezra, and after a short time were not visible by anyone.

Ezra, who seemed to wish to "observe" everything, noticed it, and said to Thomas, "Interesting. Did you see? Once again there and then nowhere. The two of them."

"Indeed?" answered Thomas. "I simply assumed that they had turned a corner or something while I was not looking."

"They turned some kind of corner. I was following them carefully, wondering if just this would happen. It was as it was with him in Nazareth. No one could say just when it occurred, but afterwards they were not there. One must blink, after all."

"Well, if they went somewhere private, that is their business, I suppose."

"Still, it is interesting."

"What is there that is not 'interesting' connected with this man?" A trenchant question, that.

I decided at this point, to try to clarify to Simon, Andrew, and Thomas, what all this meant about who Jesus was. "He is obviously filled," I said, "with the Divine Spirit in a way even beyond what the prophets "including such as Elijah and Elisha were. They had to invoke God, while the Master simply does miraculous things as if by his own power."

"As if?" said Andrew. "You think it is not by his own power?"

"Well, clearly, it is by the power of God. They are perfectly right; only God can forgive sins. But 'The Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins.' Either he is saying that he is God, or he is claiming that God has given him this power. But God is a spirit, not someone with flesh and blood. So the only reasonable thing to do is say that he is a man somehow filled with God. Either that, or he is a liar."

"Or," said Simon, "he is God."

"And you can see how absurd that is, I hope."

Simon, who could and could not, made no reply, as one might expect of a person whose mind was not of the most acute. Even Thomas seemed to be a bit nervous, as if he had found out (from Mary, in that discussion at the wedding?) something that made him think it not absurd. But let us face it; absurdity is absurdity.

Jesus joined us after a while, looked over at John (who was standing a little apart, listening) with a rather amused smile on his face--which I could not decipher--and then said to everyone that Matthew had an errand to perform, and would rejoin us on the morrow.

And, indeed, the next day, Matthew came up and joined us. He was near John, and John approached him to ask if it would be possible for him to teach him Greek. Apparently, Matthew thought him worth a try, and agreed to teach him.

"Thank you, Matthew." said John. "I would be very grateful." And sure enough, I saw them at their little meetings afterward. But once this had been settled, Matthew went up to Jesus and invited the group to a feast on the evening of the following day, and Jesus accepted. "I will bring but the ten or twelve close to me; otherwise, your servant might be overwhelmed." Matthew assured him that he could bring however many he wanted, but Jesus said that that was certainly sufficient.

But after this conversation, they wandered over to join Andrew, with Matthew keeping himself in the background as they discussed things.

We had divided ourselves (or rather, been divided by Jesus) into pairs, going around the different towns and villages in Galilee, collecting followers who joined us and left more or less at random, into a synagogue if there was one, where Jesus announced that the reign of God was about to begin, and that the people would have to acquire a new way of thinking.

Since all we knew was the abstract fact, there was considerable discussion among us as to what Jesus meant. John, for instance, asked Andrew,"Could he mean that what Isaiah prophesied was really going to come to pass?"

"You mean where everything would be at peace with everything else, lions and lambs and so on?"

"Exactly." I had not thought of this myself; but if the world was to be "restored," then presumably it was to be "restored" to the state it was in before the calamity that was spoken of in the story or "parable" of the fall of Adam.

Andrew, however, replied, "That has to be a metaphor, John. Lions eating hay like oxen? Really, now."

"Well why not?" replied John, becoming a bit red-faced at being flatly contradicted. "Has he not cured all sorts of diseases with nothing more than a touch, and driven out demons? Why could this not be a sign that the whole world would be transformed?"

"No, no, you understand nothing, both of you," broke in Simon the Revolutionary, with his usual refrain (Simon was the one I was to be paired with, which did not fill me with eager anticipation. But then, I suppose my views about what the "change of thinking" were as different in my own way from the others' as Simon's were in his way). He went on, "The 'new way of thinking' means that we have to get out of our minds that we will be under the Romans forever, and that they cannot be defeated. If we do not get rid of that attitude, no new kingdom is possible."

"You always see everything in terms of a revolution, Simon," answered John."But there must be more to it than that--if that is even in it."

"What do you mean, 'even in it'?" retorted Simon. "If God is going to become King, then Caesar will have to be dethroned, will he not?"

"Not necessarily. Remember, the first Herod was king some years ago, and we were under Rome then. There is kingship and kingship." John could think.

"There is such a thing as a spiritual kingdom," put in Andrew, where we look at things in a different way, rather than actually having a different government. Especially if God is the one who is King. How else would he govern? Is he going to set up a throne in the clouds or something?"

"Nonsense!" said Simon, and John added, "In that case, the whole thing is a waste of time, it seems to me. If everything is going to be the same, and we are simply going to pretend that it is all new and wonderful, what has happened except that we have been deluded?"

"Exactly!" said Simon. "As long as Rome has us under its thumb and is bleeding us to death with its taxes, we will be in misery, and what is the point of denying it?" John saw Matthew shrink back trying to avoid notice. It was as if Simon had cut him across the face with a whip.

"And then what is the point of all the miraculous things Jesus is doing?" added John.

"Need there be a point, except that these people are in distress?" asked Andrew. "Jesus sees them and cares about them, and somehow has the power to cure them, and so he does."

"You are not paying attention, Andrew." replied John. "He does not cure everyone; only those who he says 'believe.'"

"Well, that is easily explained by saying that what they believe is that they will be cured. It is quite possible that the power Jesus has will only be effective if someone is convinced that he can do whatever it is."

"No, no, they are signs. Signs of what it will be like under the reign of God. He says so, in plain language."

I thought that John was perhaps closer to the truth than Andrew. I was willing before to accept that the "Kingdom" might be a spiritual one, except that Jesus would be an actual King, but not much physically would change; but it seemed to me that the Force creating the cosmos would want it--insofar as It "wanted" anything--to be as it was originally "intended," supposing the Force to be benevolent, as presumably It was.

"As to that," said John, "he told me, now that he has acquired the number he was looking for, that he will soon lay out the principles of this new realm of God." He looked over at Matthew, and so did Andrew, with a not-very-welcoming glance.

"You will see," said Simon the Revolutionary. "He will begin appointing generals soon."

"From us?" laughed John. "I can see Andrew here, and perhaps yourself, leading an army. But the rest of us? Now that would be a miraculous transformation."

"All I can say is, remember Judas Maccabeus. Who would have thought beforehand that he could do what he did?"

Typical. Fortunately, the others paid as little attention to him as I did. But it was definitely going to be a trial being his partner.

At this point, Thomas came over to befriend Matthew, evidently having recognized him as another pariah. Well, I wished them well. The thought occurred to me that I myself might cultivate Matthew, since he was one of the intellects of the group. But I was not Thomas, and so I decided to wait until they approached me.

I did not have long to wait. Matthew had just replied to something that they had been saying, "I have a great deal to become accustomed to. A great deal." And Thomas said, "But let me introduce you to Judas; he really is a fascinating person in many ways. Our pride and joy, in a manner of speaking. Judas!"

I turned to show that I had heard. "Come over here. I would like to acquaint you with the man who now calls himself Matthew, now that he has abandoned his treasonous ways"

I walked over, and said, "I hope Thomas has not been poisoning your mind about us. We do try."

"He has said as much."

"But I would venture that he has intimated that we are not all successful."

"How can you say that, Judas?" said Thomas, with one of those annoying nods to his head, as if he were chopping his opponent with that nose of his. "I have merely been making innocent observations."

"If they are innocent, I would hate to be the subject of guilty ones."

"Your main problem, Judas, is that you are too perceptive." Another nod. You know I merely try to be honest."

"No doubt. I would think the Master's view is that such honesty has its limits."

"No really," broke in Matthew. "He has not said anything disparaging. He told me that you are brilliant, for instance."

"Are you not?" asked Thomas.

"How am I supposed to answer that? It is true that I have done a good deal of studying, not only in Scripture but in the writings of some of the Greek philosophers; but there is a difference between learning and brilliance, and I lay no special claim to the latter."

"You will not deny, however, that the two can go together."

"All this is silly and otiose. I am what I am, whatever it is, and what difference does it make? As the Master seems to be saying, the trick is using as well as you can whatever you've got, not worrying about whether it is more or less than the person beside you. And all of us are insects in comparison with the Master."

Matthew seemed to react favorably to this. Perhaps I could do something with him.

"Then what, as a man of learning, do you make of the Master?" he asked.

"He is an extraordinary phenomenon, without question. He has obviously read rather extensively in the Scriptures, and seems to know some of them by heart. He can quote from the prophets, for instance, at a moment's notice. But at the same time, he does not have the same kind of command of them that the scholars have, who have studied all the commentaries and all of the--shall I say, often twisted?--interpretations they give of every jot and tittle. He gets at the spirit; he knows them from the inside, so to speak. It is extremely refreshing. He will go right to the heart of some passage that commentators have worried to death like dogs fighting over a sandal, and one will say, 'Of course! Why was that not brought up earlier.' It is like reading Scripture with a bright light shining on the page.

"And that, of course, allows him to go beyond what is merely written down, because he seems to understand, more than anyone I have ever seen, why it was written down. That is why, even if he is not a scholar in the strict sense, I have joined him; I learn more here in one day than I did in years of study beforehand."

"That is great praise indeed," said Matthew.

"It is far less than he deserves."

"He is not one," put in Thomas, "that even a person like myself (a nod) can find fault with--except perhaps his tendency to be a bit outspoken and confrontational from time to time."

"Confrontational?" said Matthew.

"You remember last Passover, Judas, when he went into the Temple and saw all the people selling animals for the sacrifices? Fire came out of his eyes, and he took off the rope he used as a belt and made a whip of it, and drove them all out, shouting, 'Take these out of here! You are not to make my Father's house a Market!'"

"That was one of the instances where he had Scripture at his fingertips, I remember," I said. "He also said, 'It is written, "My house is to be a house of prayer," and you have made it a den of thieves!' I myself was reminded of another passage from the psalms: 'Zeal for your house has eaten me up.'"

Matthew was shocked. "He really said that?"

"He did indeed."

"He had them completely cowed, because they knew he was right." said Thomas. "But then some of the Pharisees, who had been condoning the abuse, tried to justify themselves by shouting, 'Where is your authorization to do this sort of thing?'"

"And what answer did he give?"

"A strange one," I answered. "He took three fingers and beat himself on the chest, as he said, 'Destroy this Temple, and in three days I will rebuild it!'" as he waved the three fingers before him.

"What could he have meant?"

"No one knew. But it silenced them, if only for a moment, because of the force of his voice, more than anything else--and perhaps because it was so incomprehensible. The obvious implication was that if they tore down the Temple, he--and perhaps a legion of angels--would restore it."

"To save face, in fact," interjected Thomas with his little chop, "some of them scoffed, 'This Temple has taken forty-six years to build, and you will rebuild it in three days?' But the problem was that they were afraid he just might be able to do it, and so they drifted away."

"The people did not, however," I went on. "They were not enamored of the Pharisees to begin with, with all their rules and regulations and interpretations and exegeses, and it delighted them to see someone stand up to them and best them. They hung on his every word."

"Actually," said Thomas, "I think that he was saying that if they tried to kill him, he would escape and return in three days. Because they would dearly love to get rid of him, and he was pointing to himself, not the Temple. 'Destroy this Temple, you see."

"You may have a point, Thomas," I said. "But it does not make a great deal of sense no matter what. I think perhaps he was carried away by the heat of the moment. There is no question that he was angry."

"I refuse to believe that he was not in complete control; I saw him. And after all, did you notice that he kicked over the changers' tables and drove out the animals, but did not set the doves and pigeons free, because the vendors would not have been able to recover them."

"There is that, of course."

"What is that commotion up ahead?" said Matthew. "Why are we stopping?"

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